Stonehenge
by feelsthemagic
Summary: Merlin has waited for more time than actually exists to reunite with Arthur.


Title: Stonehenge  
>Pairing: MerlinArthur  
>Word Count: 9,000-ish<br>Warnings: Slight character death. (what? what does she mean, slight?)  
>Summary: Merlin has waited for more time than actually exists to reunite with Arthur.<p>

300 BC- The Golden Age  
>There exists, atop a strange hill in Wiltshire, a curious rock formation. Long since forgotten by the people, it has been allowed to fall into disuse, and subsequently, disrepair.<p>

A forest has sprung up round it, all manner of vines and moss have turned the proud rocks that stand, peculiarly enough, on edge, into faded replicas of what they once were.

A foolish band of merrymakers once had the audacity to steal from this circle several of the rocks that form it- as a result it is, by sight, bedraggled and incomplete.

The enchantment upon it holds strong, however. It would take far more than what nature and men have in themselves to break a magic of this kind.

The Sun Stone, or Friar's Heel, as it is sometimes called, marks the most direct path to the rocks. It points directly to the center. Nowadays, it serves as a warning to stay away.

The people of this time are more in tune with nature and their surroundings than they will be in years to come. They read the warnings that the ground sends them.

Stay away, stay away, the ground chants to them. The trees join the ground's rhythm. It is the rare traveler indeed who chooses to ignore the advice of the trees.

Not, mind, that anything untoward happens to those who do choose to ignore. Nature does not punish, it merely guides. Those who do not heed it are left to their devices.

This formation is known, by the Celts and the Druids, who are older now than time itself, as the Giants' Dance. They alone know of how it was formed, the information passed by word of mouth across generations.

This world is different from the one in which the Giants' Dance was constructed. That world was a place in which mythology and reality combined- a place in which there was no God among men.

Magic flowed through the lives of every being then, save for those under Uther Pendragon's rule. Their magic preserved all of nature, slowing its decomposition considerably.

The year 300 BC is a happy time for most. They are God-fearing, law-abiding citizens for the most part. They worry not about the past, nor the future.

1000 AD- The Silver Age  
>This age is marked by the greed for power, the thirst for knowledge, the hunger for land. This is the start of empires that will dominate the world.<p>

The Islamic empire is at its zenith. There is no lack of artists, scholars, scientists, astrologers, and prophets. They attribute their success to Allah.

The Song Dynasty in China is in power. They have developed the first paper money known to history. They attribute their success to Emperor Zhenzong.

The population is ever increasing. The world has about 310,000,000 occupants. Life is flourishing, people are thriving.

Technology is advancing as well. Paper has almost completely replaced vellum. The scientific method has developed in the Islamic empire.

The Giants' Dance remains as it was thirteen hundred years ago in appearance, but the people no longer fear it as they once did.

They respect and revere it instead, thinking it to be a symbol of religion. The Druids have still not told the secret of the rocks to a single soul.

The people have cleared the forest surrounding it and removed the moss and vines that grew upon the rock. They have renamed the Giant's Dance as well.

They call it now Stonehenge- and in name, it seems more dramatic and mysterious and somehow, less connected to nature. Which is as it should be.

For Stonehenge is not a natural formation, nor is it one that nature approves of. Nature is still very much alive, though the people have severed their connection to it.

Myths spring up concerning the origin of Stonehenge. Crude measurements are made to determine the time of its origin.

However, it is timeless. It cannot age, not when it is wrought by magic as it is. It was created in a different world and has sustained through the creation of this one by the sheer force of its power.

There are only two beings, in all of recorded history and beyond, that have the power to create so powerful a formation.

These two beings are, of course, Morgana LeFay, the once pure witch who had turned to the dark, and Merlin Ambrosias, greatest sorcerer to ever live.

Some say that the witch had created Stonehenge to entrap Merlin after a battle that had left him crippled.

Some say that Merlin had called forth the stones from Africa to create a memorial for himself, that he should always be remembered.

However, to one who enters Stonehenge and possesses the Sight, a very different story makes itself known.

Those who possess the Sight are few and far between now- they are a dying breed. Many are not even aware that they possess a gift at all.

2000 AD- The Bronze Age  
>This is the age of technology and industrialization and a time of international competition and rivalry. This is truly a Bronze Age in terms of the worth of men.<p>

A polarization occurs on all levels- politics, religion, ethics- there is no longer middle ground on these issues.

Men have lost any connection they ever had with nature, save for the druids, who once again retain their memories of all that has passed.

Stonehenge has become little more than a tourist site, pointed at and photographed constantly, but never revered.

The rumors of Stonehenge's origin and purpose have long since died, and experts and historians have all tried their hand at pinpointing the date of its construction.

The dates are frightfully wrong- 2400 BC itself was much too soon. But through all this time, Stonehenge has been fashioned from magic, and it seems much younger than it is.

Magic is almost a laughable concept now- to suggest even the remote possibility of its existence would get a person thrown into a mental hospital.

Merlin Ambrosias lives on, wise as ever in this time, as he was always. He has not aged a day since the death of his king. One looking at him would scarcely realize that he is older than the sun, moon, stars, and even the Earth itself.

He is not any sort of religious figure- he could not claim credit for creation, after all- that dubious power belonged to someone higher up than even he is.

He has shed his royal tunic, his sorcerer's robes, and his worn neckerchief, in favor of clothes more fitting the period, but he still exudes raw power that even the humans of this time can sense.

In appearance, he is much the same. Dark brown hair that he has grown out spills into his eyes, not quite hiding the overly large ears that jut from either side of his face.

His eyes are still a brilliant blue that borders on unnatural, but they shine now with a wisdom that comes only from eons of living.

He sticks to himself for the most part, seeking out human company only to consult the druids, who welcome him with open arms, embracing him as kindred.

The solitude doesn't affect him as he once thought it would; he can still function normally and does not think himself to be particularly crazy.

Besides, the company that he would wish for is company he can no longer keep- his friends from another world- the world before this one.

Guinevere, noble Guinevere, who had not deserved to die as she had, in dishonor. She had loved her king and husband fiercely, but not quite enough.

Lancelot, brave, chivalrous Lancelot, who had followed Gwen to her grave, star-crossed lovers to the end.

And Morgana- Merlin, in remembrance, shuts his eyes against the wince of pain that threatens to overpower him- Morgana. How did he even describe her?

There were no words that could ever describe the love he had once felt for her- platonic, but love nonetheless- nor the pain he had felt at her betrayal, that even now threatened to overwhelm him at times.

He blames himself, and in part, Gaius. They had known of her gift, after all. They had the power to caution her, to lead her on the right path, but they had not done so.

How could he fault her for allying herself with those who gave her answers? He would have done the same, in her place, no doubt.

Yet he had seen purity in her soul, in the year he had known her before her magic had started to manifest itself.

It makes him wonder all the more how she had become quite so dark, how she could have changed her colors quite so much, that bit of good he had first seen in her.

She had been his friend. He had trusted her. Her betrayal had sat heavily on him, and in the early days after her fall, he had spent much of his time mourning for her.

Her duplicity, in fact, was probably what had led to Arthur's death. She had joined forces with Mordred and provided him valuable information about Arthur.

Merlin thinks often that he should not have spared Mordred's life, all those years ago. He had been weak, unwilling to murder what seemed to be an innocent child.

Still, he knows he had made the right decision all those years ago. To kill a child who had, as of yet, done nothing, is a crime that leaves a mark on one's soul.

Not that Merlin's soul is spotless, mind. He had, throughout the centuries, wavered in his righteousness. The problem was that once one added even a little black, no matter how much white one tried to add, the result would always be grey.

The most notable period in Merlin's life when things hadn't always seemed so… black and white… was the aftermath of Arthur's death.

Merlin, to this day, retains his fierce loyalty towards Arthur. Arthur had been his king, and Camelot had flourished under his rule, noble monarch that he was.

Arthur had fulfilled his destiny admirably, uniting all of Albion under his rule once and for all. He had even lifted the ban on magic and appointed Merlin Court Sorcerer.

This had been sufficient for the druids, and Merlin bore them no ill will. Still, some retained their hatred of Camelot and the Pendragon Dynasty.

Morgause had been content with the removal of the ban, but her hatred for Merlin had driven her to continue her attacks on Camelot. She had never quite forgiven him for his attempted murder of Morgana.

Morgana, for her part, had hated Uther with an intensity that drove her to strike against Camelot for the sake of doing so. She had banded with Morgause and Mordred.

Mordred had made good on his promise to seek revenge on Merlin, and thus Merlin found himself at odds with the three of them.

Morgause had been easy enough to dispose of- her power, while strong, was no real match for Merlin's. Morgana had been heartbroken at her loss, and this spurred her on to further darkness.

Mordred's power was weak, comparatively, but he was a master of deceit. He chose, rather than challenging Merlin himself, to face Arthur.

Arthur was a noble swordsman and excellent combatant, but Mordred had used trickery to defeat him. Merlin had not arrived at the scene until too late. Mordred had already fled, and Arthur lay dying on the battlefield, bloody and alone.

Merlin doesn't want to think about it. He dreams of it every night, and he prefers the memory not to haunt his waking hours as well. Still, he can't help but recall:

_A flash of gold. Merlin appears in a clearing of a forest. Some distance off lies a body. Merlin recognizes the familiar crest of Camelot and a magnificent ebony horse._

_He feels a sense of dread and rushes over to where the body lies. As he gets closer, he can see blonde hair, matted with blood. He ignores the sharp burst of fear in his chest and runs faster, blood pounding in his ears._

_"Arthur!" he cries. "Please!" There is no response. He finally reaches Arthur's side and drops to his knees. Arthur's eyes are open and he is gasping for breath._

_Merlin can't imagine how much pain he must be in. Blood pours from an open wound in his chest. He gently picks up Arthur's head and rests it on his lap._

_"Mer- Merlin," gasps Arthur, struggling for the air to get the name out._

_"Shh," says Merlin, tears falling from the end of his nose. "I'll fix this."_

_Arthur shakes his head. "No," he chokes. "This is it."_

_Merlin isn't listening, he isn't. "That's not true," he pleads, wanting it to be true with every fiber of his being. "You'll be fine." He has to be._

_Merlin's hand is shaking as he places it on Arthur's heart. _"Raccommoder guerirai sang" _he intones, to no avail._

_Arthur reaches up and holds onto Merlin's hand, stilling it against his chest. "It's okay," he whispers. Merlin brushes a stray lock of golden hair from his sweaty forehead._

_"Why isn't it working?" he cries, cradling Arthur's body. "What's wrong with me?"_

_"It's not your fault," Arthur's breathing is becoming even more labored._

_Merlin is struck by the irony that Arthur is comforting Merlin when it should be the other way around. Arthur gives a soft, weak cough._

_"Arthur, I can't… this isn't… I never even told you-"_

_"Merlin," Arthur interrupts, "Did you, you know, ever feel…?" he trails off._

_Merlin nods. "Yes," he says. "Always."_

_Arthur smiles despite the pain. "How do you know what I was going to say?"_

_Merlin smiles too, unaware that his tears are falling onto Arthur's face. "Whatever you were going to say, the answer is yes."_

_His eyes darken. "Mordred-" he begins._

_"Shh," says Arthur. "Be with me now. Concentrate on him later."_

_Merlin nods despite himself. "What can I do?" he asks._

_Arthur doesn't answer. "Is it okay," he asks instead, "if I say I'm scared?"_

_Merlin cries harder. "Of course," he promises. "I'm scared too."_

_Arthur traces a tear trail down Merlin's cheek and Merlin shudders into the touch._

_"Didn't I tell you once that no man was worth your tears?" he asks, mock sternly._

_Merlin leans down and touches their foreheads together. "You are."_

_Arthur tilts his head so his lips can scrape Merlin's cheek. "I shouldn't say this… it negates everything that Guinevere did, but I-"_

_"Don't say it," cuts in Merlin. "Please, I don't think I can handle it."_

_"All right," says Arthur, understanding. They stay how they are, neither wanting to pull away; the only sound is Arthur's increasingly labored breathing._

_"I can't believe this is the end," whispers Merlin. "It's too soon."_

_Arthur shakes his head. He looks… peaceful. "This isn't the end, Merlin. I can… see… what is to come."_

_Merlin's eyes widen. "Avalon," he murmurs._

_Arthur nods. "Yes," he chokes out. "I can see the future. I- I don't understand-"_

_"When the Gates of Avalon open, you can see everything that was, is, and will be," Merlin explains. He wishes it weren't so. It's proof, proof that this really is… goodbye._

_"Guinevere… she really did love Lancelot," says Arthur, his eyes alight with something akin to wonder. Merlin says nothing, but cringes as Arthur gives a deep, racking cough._

_"Merlin," rasps Arthur._

_"Arthur," Merlin replies, tears falling in earnest._

_"Wait for me to come back," Arthur whispers. "I am to return, in a new world."_

_Merlin should feel surprised, but he can't feel anything. "But I'll be long gone."_

_Arthur shakes his head and lifts his arm up to Merlin's face to cup his jaw. "You are immortal," he says with awe._

_"No, I'm not. I've been aging," Merlin argues gently._

_"The moment I die, you will cease to age," Arthur says, his voice fading._

_"I'd rather you lived."_

_"Don't say that. You are destined for great things."_

_"I don't want to do great things. Not without- not without you."_

_Arthur reaches over to Merlin's hand, still on his chest, and intertwines their fingers. "I'll be with you," he promises._

_Merlin takes in a shaky breath. "Arthur," he cries, his voice cracking._

_Arthur closes his eyes, his breathing evening out. "Merlin."_

_It is his final word._

_Merlin sits, cradling Arthur's body. He isn't sure how long he stays, but the sun has gone down by the time he stands, picking up Arthur as he does so._

_It must be symbolic that Arthur has died in the same forest as Freya did, so many years ago, and Merlin makes his way to the lake where her body lies._

Merlin hates remembering. He can't stand to think about how that day marked the beginning of… everything bad in the world.

_He reaches the lake and takes a few small steps into it. The water is freezing, but Merlin doesn't notice. He still can't feel._

_He isn't sure why he came here, only that it feels somehow… right. He knows that Avalon lies beneath these waters._

_He sees a flash of light from the middle of the lake and watches the area intently, never letting go of Arthur, who rests in his arms._

_The flashes intensify before a woman appears. Merlin peers at her closely as her face comes into view. It is Freya, but she looks peaceful and majestic, otherworldly._

_"Merlin Emrys," she says, and Merlin is pleased to note that her voice has not changed._

_"Freya."_

_She smiles, amused. "They call me the Lady of the Lake now."_

_"Who are 'they'?"_

_"Those in Avalon," she replies._

_"Is that where you are, then?" he asks._

_She nods. "But your king," she indicates Arthur. "Is not."_

_Merlin feels a little affronted. "Why not?" What did Arthur do that he isn't allowed entrance to Avalon?_

_Freya laughs a little at the look on his face. "Merlin," she scolds gently. "He is destined for much more than what mere death can provide him."_

_"I want him to be happy."_

_"And he is," she responds. "But he is destined to return to the realm of the living. He cannot do so from Avalon."_

_Merlin nods, not understanding much, but not caring much either. "When will he return?" he asks._

_Freya gazes at Merlin, her expression wistful. "It will be many years indeed. You live, you see, in a Golden Age of men. He cannot return until it is time to end humanity and start afresh."_

_Merlin stares, aghast, at her. "You mean Arthur will bring about the end of the world?"_

_"Indeed not. The two of you will bring about the end of the world."_

_Merlin looks away. "What if I don't want to?" he bites out._

_"I'm afraid you must. Mankind will deteriorate from what they are now. They will lose their humanity. Our Mother will not be able to bear their impact."_

_"Our Mother?"_

_"Look around, Merlin," says Freya. "Wind, earth, fire, water- the four natural elements that make up this world. They were once created as well. Our Mother created them."_

_"She created the world?"_

_"In a manner of speaking, yes. You will understand someday."_

_Merlin doesn't reply, but instead asks, "So what will change to corrupt humanity?"_

_Freya looks down. "There is a fifth element, ether. Ether is what creates the magical forces around us. It is what strengthens our connection to the earth."_

_Merlin nods. This much he knows._

_"As science improves, people will lose their connection to nature. They will suck the ether out of the world, so to speak. They will desecrate our Mother."_

_"That's horrible."_

_Freya nods sagely. "The destruction of man is one that no one wishes for, but one that must occur for the purification of the world."_

_"How does this involve Arthur?"_

_"When the time comes, you will know what to do."_

_They lapse into silence. After a great length of time, Freya speaks, looking down at Arthur._

_"You loved him." It is not a question._

_"I never forgot you," Merlin says at length, not answering._

_"I know that somehow, you still care for me as well."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"You shouldn't be. I could not expect you to remain faithful to only a memory for the rest of your life."_

_"But if I'm immortal, as Arthur says- said- then I will have to be."_

_"You will not seek a new love again?"_

_"I don't think I have room in my heart for a new love."_

_"I understand."_

_"I don't want to hurt you-"_

_"Merlin," Freya interrupts. "Death has cleared my eyes. I see everything now that life denied me. I know everything that was, is, and will be."_

_Merlin doesn't reply. Freya continues._

_"I believe you loved me, as best you could. But I also know better than to come between a man and his destiny. You and Arthur share a soul. It is fitting that you should love him._

_"I bear no ill will towards either of you. I will always love you, Merlin. Should you ever need anything, you may always ask me. I have not forgotten the kindness you once showed me. But you and I… we were not meant to be._

_"The time was not right for you and Arthur either. But one day, Arthur will rise again, and you shall rekindle the bond between you. Of this much, I am sure."_

_"Are you tangible?" asks Merlin, seemingly out of nowhere._

_"I am not. Why do you ask?" asks Freya curiously._

_"I wish I could hug you," replies Merlin. "I really do love you, you know. I wish it could be the way you want me to."_

_Freya smiles. "Go now, Emrys. My time with you has ended. I have but one more piece of advice to give you."_

_"Oh?" asks Merlin._

_"Arthur must be buried atop a certain hill. It's some distance from here- on the other side of this lake, where the forest ends._

_"You must encase him in a tomb made of the earth's materials, and place over it an enchantment strong enough to withstand any possible source of attack that may ever come upon it._

_"Nothing shall be able to enter, nor exit this tomb. It must be stronger than any magic you have ever performed. Do you understand?"_

_Merlin nods. "Thank you, Freya." He turns to go._

_"Merlin?" Merlin turns back to look at her one last time._

_"Good luck."_

_Merlin smiles at her before turning once more, heading back to Camelot, holding Arthur's body in his arms, close to his own._

Merlin can feel the time to release Arthur coming ever closer. He knows that it is a matter of only a few years, a trifle compared to the eons he has waited for.

He closes his eyes so he can concentrate. "_Tempus revelius dites me quand libérer Arthur Pendragon." _It's an incantation he made up himself so he could gauge when to free Arthur.

He has another twelve years.

2012 AD  
>On January 1, 2012, Merlin feels a thrill of excitement. He has been waiting for this year for what feels like forever- and the sad thing is, he's not far off.<p>

He feels a prickle of humor at the year- Nastrodamus had predicted in the early 1500s that the end of the world would come about in 2012.

He does not yet know when exactly he must free Arthur, but he must prepare for it. For soon, be it a day, a week, or a month, soon, Arthur will be free once more.

He looks around his tiny home and sighs. He has lived outside of what they now call London for the last fifty years in an attempt to be more social. He needs to brush up on his people skills if he is going to have Arthur back, after all.

He's sure that Arthur won't approve of how much he has let himself go over the years. His sole companion is an owl, Archimedes. He lives in the tiniest of flats- there's barely room for one person.

His walls are bare and his cupboards are empty.

He has no use for decoration, and no wish for luxuries, and so he has neither. Of course, Arthur's return means he will have to procure both. He cannot let Arthur see how he has lived for the past- well, forever.

Luckily, he has magic at his disposal. He expands the interior of his flat, making it larger on the inside. He furnishes the house and puts up small decorations here and there.

He spends the better part of the year this way. October comes and goes, and still there is no sign that it is time to free Arthur. He begins to despair.

Perhaps his depression is caused by the bleak and dreary month of November, but on the last day of the month, Merlin goes to bed with a funny sort of choking feeling in his stomach. He can't quite describe what emotion this is.

He wakes up, on the morning of December 1st, and stops in shock, one foot hovering out of his bed, midway through the act of putting on his slippers.

_Today is the day._

Merlin leaps out of bed and throws on the first items of clothing he can find. He rushes out of the house, Archimedes by his shoulder, into the cold December air.

He ignores the wild thumping in his heart and blinks for a few minutes, trying to get his mind sorted out and calmed down.

Now. He had to travel to Stonehenge, that much he knew. Summoning up his magic, Merlin closes his eyes.

"_Bedryne ús. Astyre ús thanonweard!" _The wind howls around him and he spits leaves out of his mouth as he disappears and reappears in a giant green pasture in Wiltshire.

He looks approvingly at a large stone shaped like a thumb pointing towards what seems like nothing more than a dark blob in the distance.

"After all this time," he murmurs. "It's held up well." He makes his way towards what he knows is Stonehenge. He doesn't worry about tourists seeing him- humans see only what they want to see.

He knows that the enchantment he has placed over Stonehenge will allow him to free Arthur without anyone seeing him.

He reaches the base of Stonehenge- the rocks tower over him. A rush of memories flood him all at once-

_Much of the court of Camelot is gathered here to witness the burial of King Arthur. Men and women alike hide their tears in the handkerchiefs they hold to their faces, lamenting over their fallen king._

_Geoffrey of Monmouth, who has been at the court since before Arthur was born, now the oldest member of the royal court, reads the funeral service, pausing often, overcome with sorrow._

_"He truly was… the greatest of kings. Because of him… Albion is, and ever shall be, united under one sovereign," he chokes out._

_Merlin, standing in his ceremonial robes to the left of Geoffrey, can't find it in himself to pay much attention. Arthur would have been bored to tears by all this._

_He waits patiently enough, however, lost in his own thoughts, for Geoffrey's speech to end._

_Sure enough, after a few minutes, Geoffrey calls forth Merlin to begin the sacred duty of building a tomb for Arthur._

_Merlin closes his eye and concentrates for a minute, harnessing his power. He begins to chant, his eyes burning gold, as he calls forth giant stones._

_These stones come from farther than he has ever traveled- a land that has not yet been discovered by those with pale skin. It will be called Africa one day, but how he knows this, he isn't sure._

_All he knows is that these stones protect an ancient tomb that has long since been plundered and looted. The stones no longer have a purpose there, and they are just the size he needs for his job._

_He hoists them using his magic, into a circular formation, each leaning on its neighbor, until they surround the casket that holds Arthur's body in a tight, impregnable shell._

_He continues to chant as he does so, weaving every spell he can think of into the structure to make sure it remains intact for the centuries it will have to endure._

_There is silence as he chants, his voice at some times a harsh, grating rebuke, and at others, a gentle, soothing murmur. He ends finally, in one long stream of words that seems to flow as though they were liquid, or perhaps music._

_As his eyes begin to lose their gold color, there is a flash of light from the tomb that has now been constructed. The stones, previously bound tightly together, suddenly appear in disarray, great chunks missing from some, huge gaps between them._

_"What is the meaning of this?" cries Geoffrey. Murmurs from the Knights of Arthur's Round Table also spring up._

_"Hush," Merlin placates them. "It is merely an illusion designed to keep stragglers away."_

_Now that the initial reactions to the monument are over, members of the crowd stare in awe at the formation, with something close to reverence._

_After the tomb is set, it is but simple work to call forth another stone, set a little way off, to mark the location. Merlin thinks it looks rather like a thumb and smiles to himself._

_Meanwhile, questions are rising from the crowd. "What do we call it?" seems to be the one predominantly asked._

_Merlin turns to face them. "Henceforth," he begins, his voice betraying little of the emotion he feels. "This will be known as the Giants' Dance. Speak to no one of what you have seen here today. Make your own stories. I don't care what they are- however far-fetched."_

_There are more murmurs. Merlin ignores them and continues. "I know all of you loved Arthur. A more benevolent king, a kinder, wiser ruler, we could not have asked for. I now ask you for one final favor. I am not at liberty to explain why, but you must spread stories of the Giants' Dance- wild stories. Let none of them come close to the truth of what lies beyond the walls of the tomb."_

_He does not wait to hear an answer. He knows they will abide by his word. He turns to leave._

_"Wait," calls Geoffrey. Merlin turns back to look at him._

_"We will need you in Camelot," he says. "You are the next in line for succession to the throne. Arthur left no heirs, after all."_

_Merlin shakes his head. "I cannot rule, I'm afraid. It's not my fate."_

_Geoffrey frowns, but not in anger. "I thought you would say something like that," he sighs instead. "It's a pity. You would have been a benevolent ruler."_

_Merlin inclines his head. "I'm sure Leon will serve as regent very well until a member of the royal family can be found to take his place."_

_Geoffrey nods his agreement. "I am to take it, then, that you are resigning your post as Court Sorcerer as well?"_

_"I'm afraid so," Merlin replies. "Camelot has no longer need of me."_

_"And what of Gaius?"_

_Merlin shuts his eyes regretfully. He doesn't want to- he can't- say goodbye to Gaius, whom he loves as a father._

_"Inform Gaius of my departure," he says briefly, not trusting himself to say any more._

_Geoffrey's eyes are sorrowful as Merlin turns to walk away once more._

Now Merlin stands in front of this same monument, a thrill of excitement and something else- perhaps, destiny- shooting through him. This, this, is the moment he has been waiting for all his life.

He raises both hands and moves them as he incants a spell, "_Romper le charme Arthur Pendragon retours de tot. Bebe oduth bai arisan quickum. Ich iba Merlin Emrys que manos le irka de Camelot y sole."_

The rocks begin to shift. The tourists around Merlin don't seem to notice anything amiss.

Merlin continues. "_Fur immer es in saecula momenti chere ki dospringe le stein!"_

The stones move so that where they were once tightly bound, there is now a gaping hole that Merlin manages to squeeze himself through. The entrance bangs closed behind him, but he is not worried. He knows very well how to escape from a tomb of his own construction.

He walks forward with purpose and confidence, walking the long path that is concealed within stones that are not in a large enough circle to hold it. Yet another example of the usefulness of magic- space efficiency.

He comes to a large circle, shaped much like a Roman arena. He smiles to himself and prepares himself to overcome the obstacles that he set up for precisely this event.

He had known it couldn't be too easy to get to Arthur- he was afraid, not only of others entering the tomb, but also of himself. It would be almost too easy for him to enter the tomb and sit by Arthur's side until he woke.

No, Merlin had needed to make the tomb impenetrable- even from himself. It had to be carefully constructed, in such a way that he would be able to enter, but such that he would not risk doing so more than once.

He finds it interesting that the biggest challenge he has had all his life is finding a way to overcome his own power and intelligence. He is unsure whether to be pleased or disturbed by the thought.

He focuses once more on the task at hand. In the middle of the arena lies a stone basin. He approaches it and smiles grimly down into it.

He has not set this up to be an easy task- and nor shall it be. Undeterred, he conjures a dagger from the air. The basin must be filled with blood- magical blood- before he will be able to move on.

Merlin has never much enjoyed the sight of blood, especially his own, but he grits his teeth, shuts his eyes, and makes a long but shallow cut into his arm with but a thought.

He opens his eyes a crack and watches, morbidly fascinated by the way the blood quickly fills the basin. Soon enough, the cut on Merlin's arm starts healing of its own volition and the basin retreats into the earth, its offering obtained.

Merlin feels a little weak from the blood loss, but it is not enough to do any lasting damage. He walks on, renewed intent clear in his eyes. He must wake Arthur.

The sun above him is not yet at its zenith, and Merlin guesses that it is about half past ten. Soon now, very soon, he will come across- ah, yes, there it is.

Impeding Merlin's way is solid wall. Merlin looks behind him- a wall has sprung up there, too. He is completely surrounded, with a mere four feet perimeter of room for him to move.

He knows, because he planned it so, that he cannot use magic to break or vanish the wall. It must be convinced to part ways for him.

"Mother," he says aloud. "I know it is you who has sprung this fortress around me." For even though he willed it so, there is nothing he can do, using the earth's materials, without her permission.

"I beg you, let me pass. The time has come- you know it as well as I- for Arthur to return to us. He will lay siege upon those who have desecrated you so." Merlin's voice is soft, persuading, and lyrical in its timbre.

He hears- no, senses- the wall's reply. "Suppose you are right, Ambrosias," it says. "What of me? Will I be slaughtered for the sins of man? You would have me destroyed?"

Merlin shakes his head. "You know already of the fate that awaits you, Mother. You will not be harmed, quite the contrary. You know that we mean to return you to your former splendor. See what the humans have made of you!" This last is cried passionately.

The wall hums. "You are right, of course," it concedes. "I meant only to verify your intentions. My son- you may pass. I am proud of you."

Merlin smiles. "Thank you."

The wall sniffs in amusement. "You have not asked why I say this."

"Why, then?"

"I had expected you to return long before. You have waited patiently for this day, and for this, I award you a boon. When the time comes that you have need of my help, I will give you what you desire."

Merlin inclines his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Mother."

"Go now, my son. Free your king from his slumber," says the wall, as it dissolves before his eyes.

Merlin's heart soars as he gratefully passes through.

He breaks into a run as he sees the large slab of marble that holds Arthur within. After all this time, all this waiting, he _needs _to see Arthur, and it is a need so powerful that it leaves him gasping for breath in anticipation.

He throws himself down on the ground by the side of the marble and shoves the headboard off, straining his muscles to do so alone.

Arthur lies, preserved, as though he were merely asleep. His golden hair frames his face, and Merlin has never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in all his life.

He raises a hand slowly to touch Arthur's face, hesitant, as though Arthur would disappear before his very eyes any second.

Arthur is warm, warm enough to be alive, and Merlin's eyes flutter shut as his fingers make contact with the skin of Arthur's cheek.

"Oh God," he whispers. "It's you. It's really you." He can't quite believe that he is here, _t__ouching _Arthur, after all this time.

He forces his eyes open, though he longs to keep them closed and preserve this moment for eternity. He drinks in the sight of Arthur like a man dying of thirst.

Merlin bends his head down to Arthur's ear. "Please, Arthur," he murmurs. "Please wake up. I need you."

Arthur doesn't stir, but Merlin is far from deterred. He shifts his position a bit- kneeling on the stone floor is a bit painful after a while, even for him.

He whispers a few soft words into Arthur's hair and watches as gentle lights of soft hues come up to dance above them.

"Look, Arthur," he says intertwining his hand with Arthur's. "Look up. I made these lights for you. Aren't they beautiful?"

He cups Arthur's face with both hands and touches their foreheads together. "I missed you." Their lips are close enough for Merlin to kiss him, but he resists the urge. When they finally come together, Arthur will be awake.

He settles instead for pulling back to simply watch Arthur's face while gently stroking his cheek until he wakes.

A minute, an hour, a lifetime later, Arthur begins to stir. Merlin notices, but does not move from his position, the anticipation building in his stomach and threatening to burst from him.

Soon, Arthur opens his eyes. "Merlin?"

Merlin's mouth falls into an "O" shape as he sees Arthur look back up at him.

Arthur coughs a bit and winces as he uses his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. "What's the date?" he asks.

"It's December 1, 2012," Merlin replies, still staring at Arthur. "I- _Arthur_."

Arthur's eyes soften as he looks at Merlin, kneeling by his side. "You don't look very different. What's this monstrosity you're wearing?" he asks.

Merlin frowns, looking down at himself before raising an eyebrow at Arthur. "They're called jeans," he says.

Arthur grimaces. "Why are they so tight? They're practically suffocating your legs."

Merlin grins. "Wait until you see this world, Arthur," he says. "It's nothing like it was."

Arthur nods, standing up. "I expected that." He paces a bit, taking in the feel of walking over again.

"Wow," he remarks. "A billion years in a tomb really does not do anything for your powers of locomotion."

"How are you feeling?" Merlin asks, wincing a bit as Arthur wobbles dangerously.

Arthur shrugs. "I'll be alright in a bit, I suppose. The question is, how are you feeling?" He peers closely at Merlin, who has not moved from his position by Arthur's marble coffin.

Merlin tilts his head, considering. "Overwhelmed, I think. I don't know whether to laugh, or to cry, or-"

Arthur barks a short laugh. "I always said that you were a big girl, _Merlin_."

Merlin rolls his eyes indulgently. It's just so _good _to have Arthur back. For the first time in eons, the dull ache in his heart has receded, and the lump blocking airflow to his lungs has disintegrated.

Arthur moves to stand in front of Merlin. "Are you just going to stay there all day? You didn't kneel this long for your own Crowning ceremony."

Merlin looks up at him and hears Arthur's sharp intake of breath. "My Lord," Merlin intones, bowing his head, before standing to look Arthur in the eye.

Arthur seems to be struggling to breathe, but after a few seconds, he composes himself and turns away from Merlin. "How do we get out of here?" he asks, circling the room.

Merlin smiles at him. "Let's go home, Arthur."

Several judicious applications of magic later, they're standing outside Merlin's flat, Arthur looking around with wide eyes. "This place is _wild_," he says, his voice awed. "Where are we?"

"It's called London. Current capital of the United Kingdom."

"What's that?"

"Albion," replies Merlin simply.

"The United Kingdom?" muses Arthur wonderingly. "Who is their king?"

Merlin laughs. "We have a queen- Queen Elizabeth II. But she's more of a figurehead, really. Parliament holds the power."

Arthur shakes his head. "I have much to learn about your world."

Merlin frowns. "Arthur, this isn't my world anymore than it is yours. I am from your world- you know I am."

He unlocks the door and steps into the house. Arthur surveys it and nods in relief. "It's not as small as it looks."

"I did that on purpose. I thought you'd feel more comfortable with some space."

"Thanks."

The two lapse into a comfortable silence. Merlin plops down onto his couch, and after a moment's hesitation, Arthur joins him.

Merlin can feel Arthur's body heat, though they aren't touching, and he closes his eyes. He wants, so badly, to reach out and touch Arthur- but he isn't sure.

Death would have cleared Arthur's eyes- and after all this time, he can no longer be sure that Arthur feels for him. Death has a tendency to dampen emotions, and he isn't sure he could bear rejection- not after all this time, when Arthur is finally with him once more.

He can feel Arthur's eyes on him, and he steadfastly looks straight ahead, afraid of what he would find in Arthur's expression.

After a few moments, Arthur speaks. "You're different," he says slowly.

Merlin turns to look at him against his better judgment, cursing himself for his own weakness. "You could hardly expect me to stay the same, after all this time."

"No," murmurs Arthur, lost in thought. "I suppose I couldn't."

After a minute or two of silence, Merlin's curiosity prompts him to speak again. "How do you mean, different? In a good way, or a bad way?"

Arthur takes a moment before speaking. "You look like a man who has lost everything dear to him," he says quietly.

Merlin looks away. "I have."

Arthur shifts closer to him. "I'm here now," he says helpfully.

"I know," whispers Merlin, leaning his head back against the couch. "I know you are."

"But?"

He sighs. "It's not enough."

"Oh." One word, and only the slightest hint of pain.

Merlin risks a glance at Arthur's face again. His expression betrays what his reply didn't.

Merlin sighs again. "That's not what I meant. I'm impossibly happy that you're back."

"What did you mean, then?"

_I want to be able to love you, _Merlin thinks. Aloud, he says, "Nothing."

Arthur nods, clearly not satisfied, but not pushing the issue.

Merlin gives in to impulse and reaches over to pull Arthur into a hug. Arthur, surprised, responds almost immediately, putting his arms around Merlin's waist, and pinning him close to his own body.

Merlin breathes in the scent of Arthur deeply and buries his face in Arthur's shoulder. "I missed you," he says, his voice muffled.

Arthur smiles sadly, out of Merlin's sight. "I know."

When Merlin pulls away, he can't quite look Arthur in the face, his ears bright red. "Do you want to go out somewhere to eat?"

Arthur stands up, a bit pink himself. "I'd love to see more of this world. Plus, I'm starving. And if it means I don't have to deal with _your _cooking, then I'm all for it."

Merlin swats him on the shoulder. "Prat," he says fondly.

Arthur grins. "Idiot."

Finding Arthur a change of clothes takes some time- Merlin had forgotten that Arthur would need a new wardrobe, and Arthur certainly wasn't going out into the world dressed in his ceremonial funeral robes.

Finally, Merlin adjusts some of his own clothes and tugs a new shirt over Arthur's head, looking away while Arthur dons his new jeans.

"These are terrible," Arthur complains. "They're so scratchy! And I can't get this bit of metal to stay up. Why can't I wear breeches?"

"Because you'll be laughed at," Merlin responds patiently. "And that's called a zipper. And don't try to tell me that shirt isn't comfortable. It's 100% cotton."

"It's not bad," Arthur admits grudgingly. "But this zipper won't _work_!"

Merlin smothers a laugh and reaches over. "Let me help," he says. He deftly pulls the zip up, trying to be as clinical as possible about his proximity to Arthur.

"After all this time," he says with a cheerful smile. "And I'm still helping you get dressed."

"Some things never change." Arthur sounds bright and happy, like a child. He claps his hands together. "So what are we eating? I'm in the mood for deer, I think."

"We're going to a restaurant," says Merlin. "They'll give us food. It's like a posh tavern, only without the ale."

"What's the point, then?" asks Arthur. "No ale?"

Merlin shushes him and steers him towards the door. "Wait here," he says. "I have to get my wallet."

"What's a wallet?" Arthur asks.

Merlin manages to get him out the door and onto the street with little mishap, having to pause often to drag Arthur from where has stopped to stare at a bicycle, a sculpture, a fire hydrant.

"Keep close," says Merlin. "I'm not losing you when you decide to go rushing into a mass of people because you saw a trolley."

"First of all," replies Arthur, affronted. "I'm not stupid enough to rush into a mass of people. Second, there aren't that many people on the streets. Third, I have no idea what a 'trolley' is. And fourth, even if you did lose me, I could find my way back to your house."

Merlin merely rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say," he mutters. Arthur smirks at him and then catches sight of a trolley.

"What's that? It's moving without a horse! Merlin, can you see that?"

Merlin heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, Arthur. That is a trolley. Now, come on." He pulls at Arthur's sleeve, but Arthur is rooted to the spot.

"There are people getting into it. Is that safe? Can I try?"

Merlin protests, but Arthur is already making his way over to the trolley, without pausing to look for traffic.

Merlin rushes to catch up with him. Arthur has stopped, staring straight ahead of him. _At least he had the decency to get off the road first_, Merlin thinks.

When he finally reaches Arthur, Arthur makes no acknowledgement of his presence, still staring fixedly at a spot in front of him, his mouth slightly open.

Merlin frowns and looks in the direction that Arthur is looking. Arthur is staring at a bench on which two people are sitting, kissing passionately.

Merlin doesn't understand why this is so shocking for Arthur until he takes a closer look. Both are men.

He looks next to him, where Arthur is frozen in shock. "Arthur?" he asks.

The sound of his voice jerks Arthur back to life. "I- I have to go," he says, his eyes wide, before he turns and runs.

Oh, shit. Merlin rushes to catch up with him, before he realizes that Arthur is heading home. Turns out he does know the way, after all. Merlin takes a moment to thank the heavens for Arthur's impeccable sense of direction, before redoubling his efforts.

Arthur is quicker than he is, though, and Merlin soon loses sight of him. At least he knows that Arthur has enough judgment to go straight back to Merlin's flat.

When Merlin finally reaches his flat, heaving for breath, he sees Arthur sitting on the ground next to the door. Merlin takes a seat next to him, but waits for him to speak.

"Those two men," Arthur chokes out. "They were kissing."

Merlin doesn't reply.

"Is that allowed here?" Arthur asks. "In public? Why weren't they hanged?"

"It's allowed here," replies Merlin. "It's not a problem anymore. Two men have just as much right to love each other as a man and a woman." He's pleading with Arthur, and he's not sure it's solely because of what Arthur saw.

Arthur is silent for a minute, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. "So much has changed in this world. Carriages move without horses pulling them. People mold a blob from marble and call it art. Sodomy is acceptable."

He turns to Merlin. "There's no penalty whatsoever?" he asks, as though he cannot quite believe it. "No one minds?"

Merlin shakes his head. "No one minds."

Arthur nods once to himself before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to Merlin's.

Merlin thinks his heart must have stopped, but it couldn't have, because it's pounding louder than ever, as he brings one hand to rest on Arthur's waist and another to tangle in his hair.

He kisses Arthur back desperately, moving to straddle him, and Arthur makes a noise from deep in the back of his throat before pulling away, just a little, but enough.

"Merlin," he begins, but Merlin shakes his head.

"I've been waiting for so _long_," he says, and Arthur seems to understand, for he doesn't say anything, merely brings a hand up to touch Merlin's face before kissing him again.

There's a level of emotion running through both of them that they leave unsaid as Merlin unlocks his door, Arthur laying sloppy kisses over his cheeks as he does so.

If they're both messy and uncoordinated, overeager after years of waiting and longing, then neither of them mention it.

If both of them are slightly teary, well, they have every right to be. Arthur says nothing when Merlin turns his face away as Arthur slowly pushes a single finger into him. By the time Arthur's ready to fuck Merlin, however, Merlin is meeting him in the eyes, slightly breathless.

When Arthur touches Merlin's cock for the first time, the world stops. It can't possibly still keep moving, not when there are sensations and pleasures such as this. Why would it continue, when this moment could go on forever?

It's not until Arthur is slowly pushing into Merlin while slowly pumping his cock that Merlin understands. The world had to keep going, so that he could feel _this_.

Merlin closes his eyes for the briefest of moments as he adjusts to the feeling of Arthur filling him.

He looks up at Arthur to find Arthur's head thrown back, hips moving ever so slowly, as though he's trying desperately not to move, but needs just that little bit of comfort.

"Arthur," Merlin whispers. "God, I can feel you in me. You're- it's amazing."

Arthur groans, deep and loud. "Merlin." He draws the name out, making it sound obscene and filthy.

Arthur starts speeding up his thrusts, changing his angle every so often, searching for just the right one.

Merlin feels Arthur touch a spot inside him and jerks his hips up to meet it, nearly screaming in pleasure.

"Oh God, Arthur, do that again!"

Arthur keeps the angle, hitting Merlin's prostate every couple of thrusts. "Do you know how much I used to think about this?" he growls, as he presses a kiss into Merlin's hair.

"God, I've wanted this for so long, and I couldn't _God_... do anything about it." He enunciates the sentiment by a particularly sharp thrust.

"I love you, so _so _much, and it hurts almost constantly," he continues. "God, you're amazing like this."

Merlin feels scarily choked up, and he wants to scream in ecstasy, or perhaps sob. He's drowning in the feeling of Arthur, Arthur in him, Arthur filling him, Arthur completing him.

His hands roam over Arthur's body, over his chest, to pull at a perfectly rounded nipple, over his cheek to stroke the soft skin there, over his thighs, to marvel at the muscle.

When they come, they come together, and it's never felt more like destiny to Merlin.

They lie down together in the afterglow, panting hard, pressing lingering kisses over each other.

Merlin can't stop touching Arthur, can't stop needing him, though he feels fully sated. He has waited so long for this, and now that he has it, he can't let go.

Arthur likewise seems wholly uninterested in moving from Merlin.

Tangled limbs press closer as Merlin looks down into Arthur's blue, beautiful eyes.

"I love you."

Arthur shivers a little before shifting a bit to put his arm around Merlin's waist. "I don't want the world to end," he says suddenly. "Not when I finally have you."

Merlin swallows. "Me neither," he whispers.

He's silent for a moment before he speaks. "I was told that now was our time, our time to be reunited. But for how long? A few days, at the most? There is barely a month left of the year."

He takes a shaky breath before continuing. "A selfish part of me just wants to stay like this forever," he admits.

"How can we destroy the world?" asks Arthur. "How can we possibly do something like that?"

Merlin shrugs. "When the time comes, we'll know what to do."

Arthur smiles at him. "We'll be together even past that. I'm sure of it."

Merlin grins back at him before leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder. "I hope you're right."

They lie in comfortable silence, broken with an odd kiss, until the sounding of trumpets calls them to their destiny.


End file.
